


i'm with you (to the end of the line)

by iceprinceofbelair



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Howling Commandos - Freeform, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-10 03:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18651835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceprinceofbelair/pseuds/iceprinceofbelair
Summary: Bucky is injured during an attack on one of Hydra's bases. He is not part of the mission to retrieve Zola from the train in 1945. He does not fall to his death. But Captain America still crashes his plane in the Arctic and Bucky's world starts to fall apart.-Bucky tries to say something, to ask what’s going on, but the tension in the air is suffocating and all he can do is stare hopelessly at the gathered faces, hoping something can tell him what’s happening. When Colonel Phillips can’t hold his gaze, Bucky is certain his heart stops and he’s not sure it will ever start again. He understands with sudden and immense clarity.“We’ll have the band play something slow,” Steve says, sounding soft, distant. Mournful.“Stevie,” he says. It feels like nothing more than a whisper, like a desperate prayer on a dying breeze, but everybody turns to look at him and then Steve’s voice crackles for the last time."Buck?"





	i'm with you (to the end of the line)

 

After taking a bullet to the thigh and miraculously not dying, Steve can’t help but think Bucky is being slightly unreasonable.

“It’s not like you can really walk on it yet, Buck,” he says patiently over the top of his newspaper as he sits across from Bucky in the mess hall. “You’re a good sniper but you nobody can hop stealthily.”

Bucky scowls and prods viciously at his beans, pointedly ignoring Steve’s teasing smile.

“And hey, there are lots of important jobs,” he goes on, quietly enjoying the way Bucky’s shoulders tense in preparation for the jibe he knows is coming. “You could always collect scrap metal in a little red wagon.”

Steve can’t hold back his laughter as Bucky silently rolls up his own newspaper and smacks him over the head with it.

“You’ve really got twenty years of this shit saved up, haven’t you?” He asks grouchily but Steve can tell most of his mood is a front.

“You better believe it.”

Before Steve has a chance to finish reading the sports section before a young, nervous recruit who didn’t look a day over sixteen told them - with a rather excessive number of “sirs” - that Colonel Phillips had news for them. Zola had squealed. They have the location of the final Hydra stronghold. Dispatch is at 1900.

“Better suit up,” Steve mutters, letting Bucky set the pace back down the corridor on his crutches.

Bucky huffs impatiently. “I should be going with you.”

For a moment, Steve considers teasing him but is quite suddenly reminded of his own frustration after being refused enlistment five times. He remembers how Bucky had hugged him close that night they were supposed to go dancing, called him a punk and an idiot.

_Don’t win the war ‘til I get there._

He places a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, stopping them both in their tracks. “You’re always with me,” he says and, in an attempt to rescue this sentiment from the depths of cheesiness into which it is in danger of falling, he adds, “I’m thinking about getting ‘I’m with stupid’ tattooed on my stomach.”

Bucky liberates an arm from his crutches to punch Steve hard in the shoulder. “Punk,” he mutters.

“Jerk,” Steve returns and disappears into the locker room.

~

Hours later, when the mission is well underway, things start to move too fast. The base is always a bustle of activity but there has been a tangible mood shift which sets Bucky on edge. Something is happening. Something big.

Bucky hobbles along with the flow of the crowd with as much speed and dignity as he can muster, doing his best to eavesdrop on passing conversations but there’s very little by way of information. All he can gather is that it has something to do with the commandos and their latest mission and that’s all Bucky needs to send him practically sprinting to the control room - well, as much as something _can_ sprint on crutches, at any rate.

He manages to nudge the door open a few inches before an MP steps in to block his path but, shockingly, Colonel Phillips catches his eye and his face is full of something almost resembling emotion. Bucky is suddenly finding it quite difficult to breathe.

“You know, I still don’t know how to dance,” says Steve’s voice and Bucky might have been relieved had it not been for the wealth of emotion in Peggy’s voice when she answers.

“I’ll show you how.”

Bucky tries to say something, to ask what’s going on, but the tension in the air is suffocating and all he can do is stare hopelessly at the gathered faces, hoping something can tell him what’s happening. When Colonel Phillips can’t hold his gaze, Bucky is certain his heart stops and he’s not sure it will ever start again. He understands with sudden and immense clarity. His crutches fall to the floor. He steps forward and feels nothing.

“We’ll have the band play something slow,” Steve says, sounding soft, distant. Mournful.

“Stevie,” he says. It feels like nothing more than a whisper, like a desperate prayer on a dying breeze, but everybody turns to look at him and then Steve’s voice crackles for the last time.

“Buck? I’m s-rry. I- I lo-”

Peggy tries to reach him and the same tears which choke her words are weighing down on Bucky’s chest like an anvil. Someone takes his arm and sits him down as the pain returns to his leg with tremendous force. But somehow he feels detached from it, like the pain is happening to somebody else. He isn’t crying.

“I promised,” he says, to nobody in particular. “To the end of the line.”

~

Steve’s memorial service is broadcast on the radio and there are too many thousands of people in attendance both inside and outside the church. Bucky sits next to Peggy and holds her hand while she cries. He doesn’t cry. He barely listens. His mind is blank and unfocused. His entire body is engulfed by a cloud of dark, impenetrable emotion. None of his clothes seem to fit correctly.

It’s weeks later by the time Steve’s memorial in Arlington has been cleared enough by the public wishing to pay their respects for Bucky to even consider going. He visits early in the morning and stays until the inevitable crowd begins to gather. At first, he just sits on the perfectly trimmed grass, reading the inscription until he has it committed to memory.

 

> _Steven Grant Rogers_  
>  _Captain America_  
>  _1918 - 1945_  
>  _“To the end of the line”_

It’s here that Bucky cries. Not every time, but often enough. He thinks about that little punk from Brooklyn who never knew when to stay down, who always had too much mouth and too little muscle, who never took anything lying down. Bucky thinks about that Steve, his Steve. He thinks about that kid running for miles, climbing assault courses, crawling through mud, camping out in the snow - and then he thinks back to all those winters when Steve’s asthma would floor him for weeks and Bucky would stay with him while his mother worked nights.

Bucky had once told Steve that joining the army in his condition was one hell of an elaborate suicide plan. He thinks about that now and almost laughs.

Peggy Carter finds him in his usual spot one morning just after sunrise.

“To the end of the line,” she says quietly as she takes a seat beside him. “The night he died, you said that you’d promised something.”

Bucky sighs. “I promised I’d be with him until the end of the line,” he explains, finding his voice hoarse from weeks of disuse. He hasn’t had much cause for speaking. There’s nobody to listen anymore anyway.

“You were very close,” Peggy observes. “He had a great deal of respect for you.”

“Yeah,” Bucky whispers.

For a few minutes, they don’t say anything more. Briefly, Peggy reaches out to run her fingers over the carved letters of Steve’s name. Finally, Peggy breaks the silence which is quickly becoming distinctly uncomfortable.

“More than respect,” she says quietly, sounding almost hesitant. “He loved you.”

Bucky feels a spark of panic in his stomach but the complete apathy that has settled over him since Steve’s death quashes it almost instantly.

_Buck? I’m sorry. I lo-_

There is no doubt in Bucky’s mind about what Steve had been trying to say. Bucky doesn’t know if they lost the signal or if Steve hit the water first but Bucky is acutely aware that he will never know whether Steve ever finished that sentence.

“Even when I had nothing, I had Stevie,” he says. “It was always gonna be us.”

Bucky risked a glance at Peggy. Her eyes were fixed pointedly on the gravestone but she was smiling softly nonetheless.

“We were supposed to go dancing,” she murmurs and Bucky surprises himself by snorting with laughter.

“Dodged a bullet, there,” he says with a fond sigh. “Kid always did have two left feet. Don’t think there’s a serum in the world that could give that kid rhythm.”

Peggy huffs out a sad laugh. Bucky looks down at the grass.

“Did you love him too?” He asks quietly, feeling, for the first time in weeks, _something_ substantial in his chest. Perhaps it’s sadness, or grief, or regret. But it feels, bizarrely, like jealousy.

Peggy sighs quietly. “I was starting to.”

Bucky swallows around the lump in his throat, the righteous anger which feels so reminiscent of little Steve Rogers, the overwhelming feeling that it just isn’t _right._ It isn’t _right_ that Peggy should have had a better chance with Steve than he did. It isn’t _right_ that what he feels for Steve - something so soft and warm and pure - could be something shameful. That furious little kid, that skinny, stupid, _ridiculous_ idiot who didn’t know when to quit - Bucky misses him.

“He’s easy to love,” he says thickly, fighting against a fresh flow of tears. It’s one thing to cry when there are only strangers around. He doesn’t want to admit the depth of his grief to Peggy Carter.

“He certainly is,” Peggy agrees, sounding suspiciously close to tears herself. She dusts off her skirt and begins to stand, stopping once she’s gotten to her knees. “But I doubt he’d want either of us wasting away in front of his headstone like this. I think it’s high time we gave him a proper send off, Sergeant.”

Bucky frowns as she helps him to his feet, holding his hand for longer than necessary to steady his balance.

“First round is on me,” she says and Bucky can’t help but notice that she holds herself like the soldier she is.

If Steve had made it, Bucky thinks he would have been happy to see the two of them together. If nothing else, she loved him. And Steve would have been happy.

~

For several months, they date. It’s never something they say aloud, but they both know they’re settling. If they can’t have Steve, they’ll settle for someone who loved him. But it doesn’t work. It just makes them sad. It isn’t fair. Peggy wants a family. Bucky, as much as he won’t admit it, really just wants to be alone.

So they go their separate ways and Bucky doesn’t see Peggy again until he’s invited to her wedding. She looks so happy. When she asks Bucky if he’s seeing anyone, he tells her not right now but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been.

(It does, though. He’s been on too many dates to count but nobody compares.)

The world keeps moving, keeps changing. Bucky owns far too video tapes by the end of the 1970s. He makes mixtapes for three different girls when things seem like they’re going well. He visits Steve’s memorial every Christmas and on Steve’s birthday. He takes a lot of cocaine at a party and then takes quite a lot more until the mid 80s when he takes so much that he almost dies and ends up missing his planned July visit to Steve. In 1987, he meets a beautiful woman. She’s divorced, he’s single. It doesn’t work out. He has an extensive CD collection by the mid 90s. The world doesn’t stop.

But somehow Bucky feels displaced, like he’s still stuck in 1945, thinking about polkadot dresses and swing dancing and tuning the wireless _juuuuuust_ right. Without even realising it, he thinks he became a grumpy old man in his early thirties, resisting the changing tides because it meant losing the world where Steve was with him. Try as he might, Bucky can’t let go. But he also can’t hold on.

Howard Stark dies in 1991. Bucky sees Peggy at the funeral. She introduces him to Howard’s son, Tony. Bucky tells Tony that he knew his father during the war, that he was a good man, that he was sorry for his loss. Tony does not seem to care.

Peggy Carter dies in 2010. She was Bucky’s last link to the life he wishes he’d lived. Her funeral is packed. He thinks morbidly that there’s nobody left in the world to attend his own.

Then, in 2011, Captain America returns.

~

The bullet wound in Bucky’s thigh always twinges when the weather turns and he’s leaning heavily on his cane as he enters the reception of Stark Tower. The young man behind the desk smiles at him and asks if he has an appointment.

“I knew Howard Stark during the war. Howling Commandos,” he says, pulling out his passport and his old dog tags and placing them shakily on the desk. “I’m not as young as I was, y’know. I need to see Steve Rogers again. Soon.”

The poor kid looks flustered by the intensity of Bucky’s demeanour. Perhaps he should have gone in a little softer?

“I, uh, I’ll see what I can do, Mr Barnes,” he says politely, picking up the phone at his desk and waving Buck away towards what turns out to be a remarkably comfortable couch. No sooner has Bucky managed to get himself into a position which doesn’t aggravate any old wounds than the young man from the desk appears in front of him again. “I’m afraid Mr Stark is unavailable for the foreseeable future but Miss Potts will be with you shortly.”

Bucky isn’t sure who Miss Potts is - he hasn’t followed the Starks in the news since Howard died - but hopefully she’ll be able to put him in touch with Steve. Maybe not right away - the poor guy had just woken up almost 70 years in the future after all, he might need a minute - but...soon. Everything still feels so very much like a dream and Bucky can feel a catch deep in his chest when he so much as thinks about the very sliver of a possibility that he might be able to see his best friend again.

(Part of him, he’ll admit, is desperate to ask Steve to say those words to him again. He wants to hear them, even just once.)

“Sergeant Barnes,” says a smiling female voice and Bucky looks up to see probably the most beautiful dame he’s seen since he first laid eyes on Peggy Carter. For the briefest of moments, he considers flirting with her before he remembers that he’s an ancient fuck and that his attentions would probably just make her uncomfortable.

“Miss Potts?” He says instead, slowly pushing himself up with gratuitous use of his cane.

Miss Potts smiles warmly. “Just Pepper is fine,” she says, leading him towards a roomy elevator where he leans heavily against the handrail in preparation for the journey. It turns out to be a wasted effort, however, because the elevator is ridiculously smooth.

Pepper makes no further attempt to engage him in conversation so Bucky keeps his eyes on the LED display above the door as the numbers climb higher and higher until Bucky is sure they _must_ have run out of floors by now. Eventually, they reach floor 93 (Bucky feels dizzy just thinking about it) and Pepper leads him out of the elevator into what looks like someone’s incredibly posh penthouse apartment.

“Make yourself at home,” says Pepper, heading straight to the kitchen to pour each of them a glass of white wine.

Bucky swallows nervously as she hands it to him. “I, uh, thank you but I’m afraid I don’t drink anymore.”

Pepper smiles understandingly and takes the glass back, pouring the contents down the sink without a second thought. Bucky feels awful for making her waste the wine and awkwardly takes a seat in the closest armchair. His back twinges in protest when he tries to sit up straight so he gives in and relaxes into the cushions which seem to mould to his body perfectly.

“How’s Steve doing?” He asks as soon as Pepper sits down.

“As well as can be expected,” she says cryptically. “Did you see the news?”

Bucky nods. His heart absolutely aches for Stevie, waking up alone in a world he doesn’t recognise. What must he be thinking? How does someone even adjust to something like that? It’s no wonder he caused such a scene.

“Tony’s been in touch with him at Director Fury’s request,” Pepper explains with a wry smile. “I’m not sure they really took to one another.”

Despite himself, Bucky feels his lips twitch into a smile. Even though his heart is hammering anxiously in his chest, he feels a wave of warmth wash over him at the thought. No matter what he’d been though, he was still his Stevie. Still wouldn’t keep quiet about not liking a guy’s attitude just to spare his feelings.

“Is-” Bucky begins without really knowing what he’s planning to say. “I mean, is he- can I see him?”

The question comes out more like a plea and Bucky feels sick to his stomach. What will Steve think of him now? After all, he’s not 28 anymore. In fact, Bucky feels that, aside from the age, there’s very little left of the man Steve had once, perhaps, loved. Part of Bucky thinks that it might be better to keep wondering, to die without ever knowing, because the idea of being rejected by Steve after all these years of mourning - Bucky doesn’t think he could survive it.

“Tony’s bringing him in,” says Pepper quietly.

Her face is full of concern and Bucky realises that he’s gripping the handle of his cane with white knuckles, that he’s sucking in air through clenched teeth to try and keep himself together. The panic attacks have been so common since the war that Bucky barely notices them coming on. Sometimes, he’ll be halfway through his grocery shopping and everything will hit him like a ton of bricks. Now, all he can think about is the day he last heard Steve’s voice. His heart hurts, aches, begs for Steve.

The wait drags on and Bucky becomes less and less sure of himself with every passing moment. Pepper leaves him alone after a while and at first he’s grateful but he very quickly wishes he had someone to distract him from the swirling pit of anxiety which seems to have taken over his entire body. There are so many _what ifs_ buzzing through his brain that he doesn’t even know what he’s thinking anymore.

Restless, he gets up to stand by the window, hoping the view will either bring him some sense of peace or at least scare the living shit out of him about something tangible. In the end, neither really happens but he does feel a little less claustrophobic.

Until the elevator dings and Bucky turns around slowly, feeling utterly breathless. He isn’t ready. He’s never been more ready for anything in his life.

“Stevie,” he whispers and the name slips out just like it did last time, involuntary.

Because it _is_ Stevie, his Stevie, alive and well and looking not a day over 30. He’s standing there in a workout shirt and grey sweatpants with his stupid gorgeous blond hair in a rumpled, sweat-soaked mess. And his eyes. Bucky swallows. Blue. Bright as a star. And full, absolutely full, of tears.

Steve crosses the room painfully slowly, his eyes raking over Bucky’s aged figure like he’s trying to soak him in. Bucky wants to run to him, fling himself at him and breathe him in. But he can’t move, can barely breathe. By the time Steve is close enough to touch, Bucky feels like he might faint. And then, then Steve lifts on shaking hand and presses it softly, softly, against Bucky’s wrinkled cheek.

“Buck,” he breathes, sounding choked.

For a moment, or perhaps an hour, they stand there, frozen. But then, they move as though perfectly in sync and fall into one another’s arms like puppets cut from their strings. Steve’s arms wind tight around Bucky’s back and, god, he’s still as strong as he ever was. He smells good too. Not fresh, exactly, but- good.

Quite suddenly, Bucky feels intensely nauseous. In the weeks since they’d pulled Steve out of the ice, Bucky had dreamt about this exact moment, about how perfect it would feel to see his Stevie again after all these years. But there is an overwhelming sense of wrongness settling deep in Bucky’s chest. It isn’t supposed to feel like this.

Bucky struggles in Steve’s arms, shoving him away without really thinking. He’s sobbing now which explains the earlier ache in his chest. Steve looks terrified.

“Bucky,” he whispers helplessly and his hands twitch as though to offer help but he holds back.

With a pang of regret, Bucky realises that his poor baby is stung. And stung by _him._ So Bucky reaches out even though he doesn’t think he can stand to have Steve touching him and lets himself be led to the sofa. He lets Steve wind a tentative arm around him, lets himself be pulled against Steve’s side. And all at once he wants it again, wants to be close to him. He clings. Tight.

“Stevie,” he chokes through a throatful of tears. “Missed you.”

Steve holds him tighter. For a moment, Bucky wants desperately to hear that Steve missed him too but then he realises that it couldn’t possibly be true. Because Steve only saw him a few hours ago. Steve hasn’t had a chance to miss him and maybe that’s what’s making this so painful. Bucky has grieved for Steve, has sobbed by his graveside and dreamed such horribly painful dreams about when everything was better. And now, with Steve right in front of him, still so painfully _young,_ Bucky knows that, no matter how much he wants this, it will never feel right. This is his Stevie, no mistake about it. But _he_ isn’t Stevie’s anymore.

“God, Bucky, I-” Steve whispers, startling Bucky out of his aching thoughts. “I’m so _sorry._ I never should have- I didn’t _mean_ to- I’m sorry.”

Bucky swallows. He can’t speak, can’t tell Steve that he did the right thing, that he saved lives, that he’s a hero. So he just nods and watches Steve’s beautiful baby blues shine with the intensity of his relief. He’s beautiful, just like he’s always been.

In the vulnerability of the moment, Bucky briefly entertains the thought of asking Steve what he’d been trying to say before he hit the ice, to ask him to tell Bucky he loves him. But he can’t bring himself to do it. Because he isn’t the man Steve loved. And he never will be again.

This is the end of the line.

**Author's Note:**

> i watched the first avenger again and caught feelings for stucky so now this exists


End file.
